Drake Varisey, Marquess of Winchelsea, ambled up. He nodded to Devlin and turned to stand beside him, ostensibly surveying the room. Devlin wasn’t surprised when, after Drake confirmed that his wife, Louisa, was engrossed in a discussion with Marcus and Niniver, Drake shifted his gaze to Devlin and asked, “How’s your brother?”
Devlin smiled. “Enjoying his customary untrammeled health and his equally customary unfettered existence. He’s taking his ease at the Priory at the moment. Or at least, he was there when we left.”
“Melrose is how old now?”
“Twenty-nine.”
“What are his interests?”
“I’m not sure he has any.” Devlin grinned. “At least, none that would be of much use to you.”
Drake sighed. “It’s been made clear to me—by several forces of nature I would rather not cross—that I should limit my recruiting of eyes and ears to those of our ilk who are yet to marry. Consequently, I’m forced to go fishing.”
Devlin was a few years older than Drake, but prior to his own marriage, he’d helped Drake out by trawling for information on certain secretive business deals and the movement of monies that had bordered on the treasonous. He knew what Drake and his band of helpers—the “sons of the nobility,” as Louisa had dubbed them—did, because he’d been one of them.
Leaning against the old sideboard alongside Devlin, Drake went on, “I have Toby, but given he’s already worked so many missions, I have to be cautious over what spheres I use him in. It’s not helpful if those I’m seeking information on recognize him as one of mine on sight.”
“I would have thought the Cynster horde plus your own relatives would supply you with enough agents.”
“Up to a point. But then there’s the matter of their surnames, and even if they try to conceal those, most of them are recognizable as belonging to one or other of the families.”
Devlin couldn’t help his grin. “The physical traits do tend to breed true, at least among the males.”
“Exactly. So I’m widening my net.” Drake met Devlin’s eyes. “I heard that Child has returned.”
“He has, but if you have ambitions in that quarter, you’d better act quickly, because Therese has plans for Child come next Season—and that assuredly means your fair wife will get involved as well.”
Drake narrowed his eyes on his wife. “I’m going to have to have a discussion with Louisa over her edict of me using only bachelors while, meanwhile, she does her damnedest to marry them all off.”
“Have you spoken with Martin yet?”
Drake shot Devlin an arrested glance. “Not yet. Should I? He’s only just returned to England, and he’s what? Twenty-four? Has he found his feet yet?”
“Twenty-five, I believe, much the same age as Toby, but I wouldn’t judge Martin’s caliber by his years—any more than I would Toby’s. In Martin’s case, his time away from society, earning his living, has matured him far more than had he spent those years in the ton. I would have more confidence in Martin behaving decisively and appropriately in any situation than I would have in Melrose. But more to your need, Martin’s moving to establish a metalworks manufactory. He knows quite a bit about up-and-coming developments in that area—I don’t need to tell you how much activity there is in those industries, how fast they’re expanding, and how vital they are to our collective future—and Martin has contacts in the business side of that world that I quite envy.”
“Has he now?” Drake had started smiling.
Devlin turned to Drake. “Now I think of it, you should definitely have a word. Martin had a run-in with some Germans over an invention offered through the exhibition, one Martin eventually secured.”
Drake stilled for an instant, then nodded decisively. “Thank you. I’ll definitely sound him out.”
The underbutler appeared at the nursery door. When several of the adults looked his way, he drew himself up and announced, “The duchess requests your presence in the dining hall.”
That was the signal that the nannies and nursemaids had been waiting for. They streamed forward to relieve the parents of their bundles of joy, allowing the ladies to straighten their skirts, resettle their jewelry, and tuck strands of hair back into place.
Along with the other husbands, Devlin ambled to wait by the door for their wives to join them.
He watched, smiling, as the group of lovely, lively women, their faces alight with expectation, swept up to claim the appropriate arms. He welcomed Therese with a smile he reserved just for her. She beamed at him and linked her arm with his, and they followed Drake and Louisa out of the nursery.
From elsewhere in the house came the sounds of thundering feet and male and female voices as the other groupings that had been scattered throughout the huge old mansion—the bachelor gentlemen, the unmarried young ladies, the smaller number of youths and children of the older Cynster couples—rushed or sauntered or walked demurely to join the stream of family members heading for the formal dining hall downstairs.
As the line of couples from the nursery progressed along the corridor to the stairs, Louisa, on Drake’s arm, turned her head and fixed her wide, curious, and faintly amused pale-green eyes on Devlin. He withstood her scrutiny with a faint lift of one eyebrow and a gentle, entirely confident smile.
He knew what she was looking for, and he knew what she would see.
What she would do…
To his relief, Louisa beamed delightedly at him, then transferred her gaze to Therese and pronounced, “Wonderful!”
And with that, Louisa faced forward.
Devlin met Therese’s laughing eyes and, smiling back, arched his brows resignedly.
As far as he and she were aware, none of the others had ever known of her belief or his attitude regarding their marriage. Being wrapped up in the reality of their own, openly acknowledged love-matches, the others had never questioned the foundation of Devlin and Therese’s marriage, and he and she had never so much as alluded to it.
Now…while the change between them was obvious to them, there in the quality of the smiles they shared, the more confident and more relaxed connection between them that showed itself in so many little ways, such as how close they stood, how often Devlin’s hand found Therese’s, how frequently she briefly rested her head against his shoulder—all the little touches that spoke of their love—he doubted the majority of their peers had noticed or would notice anything different about them. Nothing that clashed with what they thought they’d been seeing all along.
That said, it was inevitable that those more highly alert to and aware of the emotional currents between partners, those expert in reading them—like Louisa, her sister-in-law Cleo, and Lucilla—would notice. But all, Devlin noted, had, as Louisa had just done, merely smiled catlike smiles and, transparently, bestowed their blessings without actually saying anything.
He was distinctly relieved and entirely content with that.
They reached the massive dining hall—originally a baronial hall—and filed in. The long table had been fully extended and would, that day, sit close to a hundred hungry souls. Decorations abounded, with boughs of fir and pine scenting the air and red, green, and gold ribbon rosettes and bows liberally distributed along the board.